Skeletons Among Us: Legends of Treasure Book 2 Page 22

  Maria zoned in on his wrist that held the deadly weapon. She moved swiftly to grab it and twist, but the ranger was trained. He turned his arm in the opposite direction from the pressure and slipped from her grip. The knife swung through the air, but Maria dodged to the side, avoiding the piercing blade. At least she had better positioning than him now. Being to his side rather than out front gave her a superior angle. She kicked at his knee and it buckled. The ranger teetered, almost losing his balance.

  As he wobbled, Maria struck his arm holding the weapon and then side swept his legs once more.

  The man shrieked in a language as old as the mountains.

  He charged again. She jumped out of his way. Back and forth. The hunter and the hunted.

  As the man drew back the knife before plunging it into Maria, she saw an opportunity. Expertly, she jabbed at his throat. Quick. Hard. Effective.

  He gagged and stumbled.

  Ranger Ferlund was a skilled fighter, but it was clear he was not used to being seen by his prey. He usually had the upper hand of stealth.

  Until today.

  Maria kicked him in the groin, which made him double over. With the back of her hand, she karate chopped his arm. The knife he held clamored to the ground. Maria snatched it up. Panting, she said, “You’re not going to win this fight. Let’s call it.”

  “I always win.” Ranger Ferlund spun around to face her, indignant. “I am the Guardian.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m the chief of police in Kanab, and I say you don’t.”

  The ranger furiously dove at her, a battle cry on his lips. Maria lifted the knife in her defense and he ran onto the blade. It’s tip sank deep, deep into his chest. A sickening, dense sound. Smooth, fresh blood coated her hand. She released her hold on the ancient weapon and backed away. The smell of sweat, dirt, and death in her nostrils.

  Ranger Ferlund stared down at the front of his body. The knife’s handle protruded from his chest. A wave of confusion painted his face. He dropped to his knees, looked up at Maria and … screeched.

  The same noise the bird had made. A ghastly inhuman cry that reverberated in Maria’s eardrums.

  His skin began to molt off in large chunks, revealing black patches. His body, while never large, began to narrow and then shrivel. Feathers appeared. His mouth and nose melding and growing outward into a sharp, curved beak.

  Before Maria’s eyes, Ranger Ferlund transformed into a lifeless bird, lying on the ground in a pool of the man’s blood. No, its blood.

  Instantly, the crag in the mountain wall opened up again. The yellow pulsing light reappeared, awakening a yearning from deep inside Maria. Nearly overcome by the pulsing desire to enter the rocky opening, she ran.

  As hard as she could.

  In the opposite direction.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  In 1949, James A. Cravey of Phoenix hired a helicopter pilot to fly him into the heart of the mountain range and drop him off with provisions for eight days. He planned to hike out, but instead he vanished. Eight months later, a pair of horse riders from a dude ranch stumbled upon Cravey’s headless skeleton. His skull was later pulled out of a hackberry thicket, 30 feet from the body.

  —“Mysteries & Miracles of Arizona” by Jack Kutz. Rhombus Publishing Company, 1992, page 34.

  THE STATE PARK RANGER station was closed. The doors were locked and its insides dark. Maria picked up a rock and tried hurling it through the window, but it bounced off the double paned, shatterproof glass like a bouncy ball. She needed a telephone. She had to call Beth. Melissa. Anyone.

  Rod hadn’t killed Dakota. Ranger Ferlund had. Who then, was trying to kill Rod? And why? Was Amy still the guilty party, or had she been acting on someone else’s behalf? She had never showed up at the Superstitions. A point in her favor.

  Thankfully, Maria’s car keys were still tucked inside the waistband hidden pocket of her hiking pants. She would drive to the closest phone she could find and call. It was past dinner time. Hopefully someone was at the hospital because that would mean that Rod was still alive.

  ***

  “Phoenix General. How may I help you?”

  The voice on the other end of the phone brought tears to Maria’s eyes. She was close. So close. She didn’t care that everyone in the gas station was staring at her. Bloodied. Caked with dirt. Probably quite a sight. And with no phone. She’d had to ask the cashier to use his personal cell phone since the one at the station didn’t allow for long distance. He’d reluctantly agreed and then pulled out a container of disinfectant wipes, ready and waiting until she was done.

  “I need to speak with the attending physician of Rod Thorton. It’s an emergency.” Maria barked into the phone.

  “I’m sorry, calls are not being accepted by that room.”‘

  “So he’s still in a room?” asked Maria. “Does that mean he’s still alive?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to give that kind of informat—”

  Maria was losing her patience. Not that she’d had any in the first place. “Listen, I have to talk to someone there. I don’t care who. Could you go take the elevator, the stairs, I don’t care, but get to his room and tell someone that Maria Branson is on the phone and she knows the kind of infection that Rod has. Did you get that? Did you get my—”

  “Wait one moment while I transfer you to the receptionist on that floor,” the voice droned.

  Happy music filled Maria’s ear. She thought she might explode.

  A minute later another voice spoke into Maria’s ear. “Phoenix General ICU. How may I help you?”

  The identical conversation repeated itself while everyone in the gas station continued to mill around, buying more pop and candy bars, waiting to see if the crazy homeless woman would try to steal the cashier’s phone or not.

  “Listen, I have, have, have, have to talk to someone there. I don’t care how. They just need to know Rod Thorton and—”

  “One moment please.”

  Seconds turned to minutes. One of the gas station bystanders had finished her entire thirty-two ounce Coke and was onto a refill.

  At last Maria heard another “Hello?”

  “Hello, I have to speak with someone in the room with Rod Thor—”

  “Maria?” the voice asked.

  Maria stopped, paused, then answered, “Yes?”

  “Maria, it’s Beth. I’ve been so worried about you. Derrick and Melissa said you’d gone by yourself to the—”

  Maria interrupted. “Is Rod alive?”

  “Yes he is. We’ve—”

  Maria didn’t wait to hear any more. “I know what kind of infection he’s got. I need you to get a pen and paper and write this word down. I don’t know how to say it but I remember that it’s spelled with a B—”

  “We know what Rod has.” Now it was Beth’s turn to interrupt. “Ms. Tuttle she figured it out. She called before lunch to let the doctors know how to treat it. Rod’s responding really well to the new antibiotic. It’s been like night and day. He really … well he really wants to see you. He’s been worried.”

  “He’s been worried about me?” Maria stood stunned, the smell of grilling hot dogs and fake nacho cheese sauce assaulting her nose.

  “I know. Sweet, huh? Well, we knew you’d gone to the mountains. Alone. Which is really, really bad form, Maria. You know you’re always supposed to take a hiking partner.”

  “Skip the lecture.” Maria rolled her eyes, totally understanding how Beth’s kids must feel.

  “Anyhow, we called the ranger’s station and the man there said he’d seen you enter the mountains but hadn’t heard from you since. He said you’d refused to tell him where you were heading.”

  “Okay, well that’s a lie. But whatever. Rod’s really okay?”

  “Yes. The antibiotic is working miracles. Apparently you need the right kind to treat this bacteria, something about a gram-negative—”

  “Yeah, I read that on the report.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Beth, “w
hat report was that?”

  “Never mind.” Maria exhaled, feeling the pent up anguish leave her body. “Listen, I’m … I’m so happy about Rod. I’ve been so worried I was too late.”

  “Nope. We’re all good, except for the fact he’s still charged with murder of course. Any news on that front?”

  “It’s kind of hard to explain,” said Maria, looking around at everyone who was watching her. She felt like a neon light was blinking above her that read, “Stare at me. I like it.”

  “I’ve got time,” said Beth. “I’m dying to know what you’ve been up to.”

  “I can’t really go into all right now, but I do think I know how Rod got sick.”

  “Really? That’s great. Honestly, the doctors said they couldn’t figure it out. The bacteria is really rare. Something none of them have ever seen. They assumed Rod must have been traveling a lot to pick something like that up. Kinda crazy. We’re all so happy, though. The whole gang’s here. There’s Amy and Brian, Derrick and—”

  “Wait,” interrupted Maria. “Amy’s there?”

  “Yes.” Beth’s voice sounded confused.

  “Is she in the room with him?”

  “Yes, we were all in there. They’re about to transfer him out of the ICU and into recovery. Why do you—”

  “Go. Go back to his room. Stay with him, Beth. Don’t take your eyes off of Rod. Please, don’t let anyone get close to him. I can’t stress enough how —”

  “Hey lady?” The cashier poked his face right next to Maria’s. “I really need my phone back. My girlfriend’s gonna pick me up from work, and I need to let her know what time—”

  Maria turned, ignoring the young man’s request. “Beth? Beth? Are you there?”

  But the line was dead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  While on a business trip in Mexico, Erwin Ruth was given a map to several rich American mines from a Mexican facing execution. Erwin shared that map with his father, Adolph, who became obsessed with finding the mines. Ruth hired two cowboy prospectors to pack him into a canyon that matched the one on his map. He was never seen alive again. Despite an exhaustive manhunt, Ruth wasn’t found until an expedition to document unexplored Indian ruins turned up his bullet-shattered skull under a palo verde tree a few months after.

  —www.phoenixnewtimes.com. Martine Cizmar, Apr 22, 2010.

  MARIA TOSSED A TWENTY dollar bill on the counter of the gas station and picked up the tub of Lysol wipes. “Can I have these?”

  The cashier looked down at the money and nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”

  Maria bolted out the door and into her car. Phoenix General was more than an hour away. She planned on making it in forty-five minutes. In the meantime, she was going to give herself a Lysol wipe bath. No hospital would let her inside looking like she did, unless they assumed she was a patient. Someone who’d recently survived a car wreck perhaps.

  The scratches from the bird—or Ranger Ferlund—whatever he was, had crusted over with dried blood. Most of the wounds were superficial. A few in her scalp may need a stitch or two. The disinfectant in the wipes stung her skin as she wiped her face and arms, getting off the layer of dirt. Next she rubbed down her legs, bruised and cut from falling on the ground.

  Looking into the mirror, she concluded that she looked … horrible. The dirt had probably helped her look better by covering the injuries. Now she looked like she’d gotten into a fight with a raccoon and most certainly lost.

  But who cared? Rod was okay! He was awake and talking. Maria had never imagined an antibiotic could be so fast acting.

  And he was innocent. One hundred percent innocent.

  Maria sighed, but relief didn’t come as she hoped it would. The police still thought he’d killed Dakota. He was an accused murderer to everyone else. Maria’s fantastical tale of Ranger Ferlund would hold no water in court. Everyone would think she was crazy.

  Besides, what if Amy tried something else to get rid of Rod now that the contact solution hadn’t worked? No, he was still very much in danger.

  And why did Amy want Rod dead in the first place?

  An image of Amy’s body shrinking and molting into a black, screeching bird sent a shudder through Maria. What if Amy was one of those things too? What if she knew Ranger Ferlund? Maybe they’d been working together to pin the murder on Rod?

  If Amy wasn’t an animal-morphing human, Maria was convinced that Sierra, The Keeper’s Materfamilias, was. When Maria had seen the dog’s paw take the form of a human foot in the igloo, she chalked it up to her overactive PTSD-damaged brain. But now she’d seen firsthand what Ranger Ferlund’s body had done. This wasn’t her imagination.

  The memory of what had happened in the Superstitions would take a while to fade. It had been gruesome, seeing the man’s body shrivel into a dead bird. His clothing had simply faded off his body. Feathers protruding out of flesh. His eyes, nose and mouth all melding together into a beak with two beady yellow eyes.

  Maria wondered what sort of science could explain such a thing? Was there an explanation? Or had her understanding of reality gone down a path that she never believed existed. Magic?

  It almost made her laugh out loud.

  No, not magic, but perhaps some ancient use of nature and space, of the elements and time. A perfect balance of the supernatural and biology. Something like mystically enhanced cell reproduction. Didn’t historians say that Hindi mythology was more akin to modern-day science than 1800 mid-century academia was?

  Maria definitely had a few questions for the Keepers, that was for sure. But for now, she wanted to see Rod. She needed to see Rod. She had to tell him she was sorry for ever doubting even for one second that he was above suspicion. He had become an anchor in her life. She wished for nothing more than to drive home to Kanab and pick things up right where they’d left off. As if Arizona never happened.

  Except that things would be different. She would be different. She was through holding back. She would reciprocate his affection. All of it. She would show him how much she admired his strength and goodness. How much she appreciated him.

  How much she loved him.

  Why had she resisted before?

  She rehearsed in her mind over and over what she would say to him in the hospital. Of course, it depended on who was there. She couldn’t be all lovey-dovey if everyone was in the room. Or could she? The thought embarrassed her more than those awful dreams she used to have as a teenager of showing up to school without any clothes on.

  But maybe it was time. The perfect opportunity to shatter her tough girl image.

  Exactly forty-eight minutes later, Maria parked her car at Phoenix General hospital. It was three minutes later than she hoped, but not too shoddy for hitting a small patch of traffic on the interstate.

  Constraining herself to walk, not run, Maria entered the hospital and asked the lady at the information desk what room Rod Thorton was in. The woman told her, and Maria headed for the elevators. She pushed the up arrow button and glanced in the mirror on the wall above the customary table with lamp.

  Unfortunately the mirror did not lie. She looked absolutely dreadful.

  Appalling, really.

  There was no way she was going to go confess her love to Rod in that sort of state. Even welcoming him back to the land of the sane was asking too much. A man would have to be half out of his mind to find her appealing in the slightest. Since Maria strongly hoped Rod had all of his faculties back, she really needed to not look this atrocious.

  She did, after all, have a little pride.

  Shopping in a hospital gift shop was never an enjoyable experience. However, today it was excruciating. Everything was so poorly organized. She found a toothbrush in one corner, the toothpaste in another. Luckily, she found a shirt her size. It was purple with tiny flowers, but it looked better than the torn and bloodstained rag she was wearing. She also snagged the last body spray mist and even found some face powder to conceal a few of the more obvious scratches on her forehead and c
heeks.

  Placing everything on the counter, she reached back into her backpack to get her credit card. As she did, the figure of a woman fishing through a bin full of random stuffed animals caught her attention. Something about her looked familiar. Maria was watching her so closely, she missed hearing the cashier tell her she needed to sign the screen on the credit card swiper.

  When the woman looked up, Maria gasped.

  It was Dakota’s ghost.

  Kind of.

  But not really.

  Something was different.

  Dakota’s ghost aura was gone.

  There was no fuzzy, yellowish hue surrounding her body. Her outline was a clear as any high-definition movie.

  “Miss,” said the cashier, interrupting Maria’s thoughts. “Miss, you need to sign the screen, please.”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Maria signed it, keeping her eye on the figure at the stuffed animal bin. The woman lifted up a stuffed bear and looked at the price tag.

  As she handed the cashier the receipt, Maria called out, “Dakota? Dakota Thorton?”

  The figure turned to look at Maria, her face drawn in apprehension and surprise.

  “Dakota?” asked Maria, quizzically.

  The beautiful woman opened her mouth, closed it, then turned and ran out of the gift shop, stuffed bear still in hand.

  Maria shoved her purchased items back to the cashier and ordered, “Hold these a sec.” Then she took after the woman at a full sprint.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Authorities believe a third set of human remains recovered this past weekend from the Superstition Mountains could be the last of three hikers reported missing in July. Hikers found two other bodies in the same area Jan. 8, and authorities are awaiting confirmation using dental records that they may be the missing men … last seen in July heading into the Superstition Mountains near Apache Junction in search of the fabled Lost Dutchman Gold Mine.

  —“More remains found in the Superstitions; may be hiker’s.” The Arizona Republic, by Nathan Gonzalez, Jan 17, 2011.